


Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)

by harrisonbored



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrisonbored/pseuds/harrisonbored
Summary: “‘Leia told me that you’d lost your hand on Bespin,’ Han said, gently inching up Luke’s shirt sleeve to observe the nearly-invisible line where prosthetic met natural arm. A look of guilt crossed Han’s face.‘Self-blame’s not a look I’m used to seeing on you,’ Luke commented. ‘And it’s not a cute one.’‘So you think I’m cute?’ Han replied, his ribbing half-hearted.Luke let out a ghost of a laugh. ‘Sure.’”Luke and Han catch up after the events of ROTJ.
Relationships: Background Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 160





	Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)

**Author's Note:**

> takes place immediately after rotj. implied hanleia and obviously explicit skysolo, but no incest (as always.)
> 
> title comes from the beach boys song

Smoke wafted up through the trees, fading into the purple-toned dawn. Despite the night coming to an end, the party was still going strong. 

Luke, on the other hand, was feeling the complete opposite. 

His prosthetic hand had finally given up on him about an hour ago, after he’d limped it along the majority of the night. It likely wouldn’t be a big deal to fix, completely shorted out from the emperor’s Force powers. It was the rest of his body that he was concerned about; what had begun as a dull ache that barely registered through the adrenaline had become borderline unbearable at this point. 

He dragged himself away from the festivities and collapsed on a rough-hewn bench outside of a quiet hut. Leaned back against the side of the building, Luke closed his eyes and tried desperately to fight back the exhaustion. Or go to sleep, he wasn’t quite sure what he actually wanted at this point. 

Luke jumped at the feeling of somebody nudging his shoulder. He looked up and saw Han standing over him, eyes tired and expression concerned. 

“You holdin’ up okay, kid?”

Luke shrugged. “I’m just real sore, is all. Plus my hand’s stopped working.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Luke gestured for him to sit down and allowed him to gently reach for his hand. Han ran is fingers over the artificial skin, carefully crafted to look and behave just like the real deal. Even without the hand being operational, Luke could still feel Han’s phantom touch, although he wasn’t sure if it was just the last dregs of the mechanics or something in the Force. 

“Leia told me that you’d lost your hand on Bespin,” Han said, gently inching up Luke’s shirt sleeve to observe the nearly-invisible line where prosthetic met natural arm. A look of guilt crossed Han’s face. 

“Self-blame’s not a look I’m used to seeing on you,” Luke commented. “And it’s not a cute one.”

“So you think I’m cute?” Han replied, his ribbing half-hearted. 

Luke let out a ghost of a laugh. “Sure.”

Han continued tracing patterns on Luke’s hand for a few brief seconds. “I think we ought to take you up to Home One, get this looked at.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Han shot him a disbelieving look.

“And from the way you’re sitting, it looks like you’re in pain, too,” he added. 

Luke groaned. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, watching as Han rose to his feet. “But you’re gonna have to help me up.”

“I can do that,” Han said, reaching out and pulling Luke up by both hands. 

Luke leaned awkwardly against Han’s side as they walked through the forest towards the shuttle that would take them up. Han took care to guide them away from any chatter or music they heard, taking the long way around the Ewok village. 

“Leia—“ Luke gasped when they were still a little ways out from the shuttle. “We should probably let her know where we’re going.”

“I’ll make sure to comm her,” Han promised. 

Luke’s knees were buckling and Han was supporting most of his weight by the time they reached the shuttle. Thankfully, they were the only people aboard at takeoff, and the pilot didn’t seem interested in asking any invasive questions. 

Despite having the entire shuttle to themselves, Luke remained plastered against Han’s side. The meat beneath his skin burned, almost like his blood had been singed and it was carrying the damaged cells all throughout his body. The emotional toil was hitting hard, too. Vader— Anakin Skywalker— whoever he was, was dead. Luke wasn’t sure how to feel about that, other than that there was a level of heartache. Leia knew about their shared father already, but Han was still in the dark. He’d have to tell him, and likely soon. That was distinctly more nerve-wracking, although Luke knew it was mostly unwarranted. On top of it all, exhaustion was giving him cold chills, and Han felt blessedly warm. 

Han didn’t complain about Luke burying his face into his collarbone. 

After what felt like an eternity in the shuttle, they reached Home One, and Luke and Han were ushered quickly into a private examination room. A medical droid made quick work of taking Luke’s vitals, before disappearing through a door in order to find a doctor. 

“You doing okay?” Han asked. “I mean, as okay as you can be.”

“Yeah,” Luke sighed. He found his head slinking down to rest on Han’s shoulder of its own accord. “Stars, I’ve missed you Han.”

“I don’t know what to make of it, kid,” Han admitted, lacing his fingers with Luke’s real ones. “I go under and you’re still this starry-eyed farmboy... It felt like I took a long nap and woke up with you... Still _you,_ but different.”

“I’m still me. I still love you.”

Han’s breathing hitched. He wasn’t crying, but something had struck him.

“I thought you were dead, before Leia told me,” he confessed, voice barely a whisper. “I... I didn’t know she could do the same thing as you, so I tried to put on a brave face for her... Like she needs me to do that... But it scared the hell out of me, Luke.”

“I’m here.”

“You still hurtin’?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Kriff, Luke—“

The doctor appeared, interrupting Han. She quickly went to work, asking Luke questions and moving to open up the control panel for his arm. 

In order to give her good access, Luke had to remove his shirt. He went slowly, each movement incredibly painful, until his shirt was off. Han moved to hold it for him before freezing. 

“Fuck, kid, what did they do to you?”

Luke looked down at his naked torso. Massive burns pockmarked his body, landing in places where the emperor had tortured him. 

“The emperor used... I’m not entirely sure what it was. Something like lightning. He tried to kill me with it.”

“We’re gonna want to check for internal damage, too,” the doctor added. “Come along, we’ll fix that arm once you’re sorted out.”

Han waited outside of the scan room, fidgeting restlessly. He was on the brink of deliriously tired, and the only thing he could focus on is finding a bed somewhere on board the ship and curling up with Luke for the next several hours, if not the next couple days. If Leia could join, he wouldn’t turn that down, either. 

They’d given him a thorough once-over as soon as they’d gotten back from Tatooine, but Han still was far from fully recovered. There was nothing further they could do medically, and Han had been able to trudge through the past couple days with some level of ease, but he was collapsing in a similar way to Luke.

“General Solo?” The door across the hall from Han opened and the doctor appeared. Han slowly rose to his feet and walked over to her. 

“How is he?”

“He’s pretty beat up. We’ve never really seen anything like this before, truthfully, but it seems like a bacta treatment is working okay.” She handed him a bag with the medicine inside. “Just have him slather this on whenever it starts hurting; nothing invasive, just sticky.

“His prosthetic is back up and running, though.”

“I appreciate the info, but you’re telling me this _why..._?” Han asked. 

The doctor gave him an amused smirk. “Come see,” she said, vaguely gesturing for him to follow her. 

She led Han into the exam room, where Luke was curled up in the exam chair, completely asleep. 

“We gave him a painkiller and it totally knocked him out. I think the pain was the only thing keeping him awake.”

Han was hit with pangs of both sadness and fondness. Luke really had been running on fumes...

“Get him to bed, General Solo. And I’d advise you to do the same.” The doctor gave him a scrutinizing look. “You look a little worse for wear yourself, if I’m not overstepping.”

Han froze a little at the bed comment, but quickly realized she hadn’t inherently meant together. (Although he did have every intention of them going to bed together.) “Not at all. In fact, it’s the first piece of medical advice I’ve ever been happy to follow.”

She laughed at that. “Rest up. Have a good night.”

“Morning at this point,” Han said, “but thanks. You, too.”

The doctor left, leaving Han and Luke alone. Han leaned over to gently shake Luke awake.

“C’mon kid, you can sleep in a real bed,” he mumbled, fingers digging tenderly into Luke’s shoulder. Luke grumbled a bit before slowly opening his eyes and staring blearily at Han. 

“Let’s go,” Han said, extending his hand. Luke grabbed on and let Han pull him up.

“You gonna be able to walk?” Han asked. 

“Yeah,” Luke slurred. “‘M gonna have to lean on you.”

“That’s fine.”

Luke wasn’t lying when he said he’d have to lean— Han was practically carrying him as they walked towards the section of the ship dedicated to sleeping quarters. Han would have to find them an available room, but considering that most people who weren’t in the medbay were down on Endor, it didn’t seem like they would have to fight for space. 

A protocol droid set them up with a nice double, with larger-than-standard beds and a private refresher. Han let Luke slump down on the bed closest to the door and set about getting undressed. When he looked back over to Luke, Luke wasn’t even watching him, his eyes closed and his head lulling to one side. 

“You gonna go to sleep in your clothes?” Han asked. 

Luke hummed in response. 

“Do you want some help?”

Another hum. Han took it as a yes. 

“Stop me if you wanna leave somethin’ on,” Han said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pulled one of Luke’s legs up onto his lap and began undoing the straps of his boots. 

Once his boots were gone, Han began inching off Luke’s shirt, careful of his injuries. It took a little longer than normal, but eventually Luke was shirtless. 

“Pants or no pants?” Han asked, hands hovering just above Luke’s waist. 

“G’ahead,” Luke slurred, one arm slung over his eyes. 

Han carefully shimmied Luke’s pants off, leaving them both only in their underwear. Before the carbon freeze— and likely on any other night— this would only be the beginning. But both of them were barely in the state to be awake, so Han just nudged Luke until he could get him under the covers. 

“Leia,” Luke reminded Han, mouth partially pushed into the pillow. 

“I’ll comm her, hang on,” Han said, reaching over to where he’d laid his comlink on the nightstand. He sent Leia a quick message before crawling back into bed, curling up under the covers. 

“Doctor gave me some of this cream stuff,” Han explained, adjusting the blankets so the two of them were as covered as possible. “You can put it on in the morning, once the painkillers have worn off.”

Luke exhaled through his nose, like that was any kind of meaningful response. 

Han sighed and pulled him in closer. Luke’s forehead rested against Han’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against his chest. “We’ll be okay, kid.”

The comlink beeped. Han contorted almost painfully to reach it without moving Luke. 

“Leia says to feel better, and to get some rest,” Han said. “She may join us later, but probably not for a nap.”

“She needs t’ sleep, too,” Luke mumbled.

“Yeah, and she will. Probably down on the ground.”

“‘Kay.”

Han put the comlink back and cuddled back up to Luke. Luke’s hand snaked it’s way around Han’s, clinging with what little energy Luke had left. It was unbearably tender. 

“Get some sleep,” Han insisted, pressing a kiss to Luke’s hair. 

“Hmm,” Luke breathed against Han’s chest, already half-asleep again. 

Han felt as though he were just getting to sleep when he was jolted awake by Luke contorting in his arms. 

“Hey, kid— Luke! Luke, calm down, it’s okay—“

Luke writhed in pain for a few more seconds before choking out: “Fuckin’ _hurts—“_

“Hold on, hold on,” Han mumbled, trying to keep himself collected. He reached over and grabbed for the container that the doctor had given him. 

“Can you lay still for 30 seconds?” Han genuinely asked.

Luke nodded and forced himself to stop squirming. Maybe he was using some kind of Force trick to keep the pain at bay, Han couldn’t tell. He was too busy scooping out globs of bacta paste and rubbing it over Luke’s chest. 

Han watched as he visibly relaxed, the treatment sinking quickly into his skin. “Roll over for me?” he asked, and Luke slowly rolled over so Han could get his back.

Once he was done, Luke’s body was limp again. “Kriff,” Luke mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. “That hurt.”

“Sounds like an understatement,” Han said, taking the opportunity to check his comlink. 

“Leia’s askin’ about you,” Han informed him.

“I’m okay,” Luke said. “Just sore.”

“More than just sore. She wants to swing by, is that okay?”

“Lemme put on some pants first.”

Han tracked down some more comfortable sleep pants for Luke (who was already dozing back off), and a pair for himself. Leia showed up not long after they’d both gotten settled back in, Luke dozing against Han’s shoulder. 

“Kriff, Luke,” Leia mumbled gently touching one of the marks on Luke’s arm. “What did he do to you?”

“Not really sure,” Luke replied. “Hurts, though. But not right now.”

“We’ve been to the doctor, she gave him some kinda fast-acting bacta treatment. It’s helpful,” Han elaborated. 

Leia just hummed, continuing to run her fingers along the mark. 

“Did you get any sleep?” Han asked. 

“Yeah, crashed down at the Ewok village around dawn,” Leia said. “Not a long rest, but enough to power through today.”

“Do you—“ Luke began. 

Leia cut him off. “I need you to not give out on me.” She turned to Han. “Keep him from killing himself, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Luke crossed his arms. “I’m not self-destructive!” he grumbled. 

Leia and Han gave him incredulous looks. 

“Fine, fine,” Luke sighed, shuffling back down underneath the blankets. “But I’m not gonna get any rest with the two of you talking.”

Leia let out a breathy laugh. A truly irritable Luke post-Jedi-training was a rare sight. “You must be exhausted, huh?”

“And a little sore,” Luke conceded. 

“I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Leia said, her tone turning gentle. “Comm if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

With that, Leia left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Wordlessly, Han and Luke shuffled in the dark to get comfortable. Luke avoided laying on the side that Leia had been touching— easily the worst of the burns— and curled back up against Han’s side. 

Han had worried that maybe things wouldn’t feel natural at this point. After all, it had been over a year in Luke’s time that they had been together, including the journey to Cloud City. An awkward phase of re-learning where limbs were meant to lay and how bodies were meant to touch seemed like a forgone conclusion. 

But it was like they’d never been apart. For all of Luke’s changes— the hand, the ‘saber, the Jedi title— the way he fit perfectly in Han’s arms hadn’t changed a bit.

Han was apparently thinking too loudly, because Luke nudged him. “Let me sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine. I was kidding.”

“Luke.”

“Yeah?”

“You said you loved me.”

“Yeah?”

Han breathed in deeply. It was one thing to say it to Leia in the heat of battle. Here, it was deathly intimate, to the point of pain. 

“Han, I know.”

He let out the breath. “Good. Good that the Force is able to tell you that I love you for me.”

Luke laughed against Han’s side. “It does make things easier.

“We have more to talk about, but... But it can wait until we’ve healed up some. Physically at least.”

“Yeah, it can. For the first time, I think we have all the time in the galaxy to wait for it.”

Han fully relaxed, and Luke’s body relaxed in almost eerie synchronicity. Han guessed he wasn’t shielding himself right now. He could feel Luke smiling against his skin, his eyelashes fluttering in his collarbone as his eyes closed. 

Han reached up and began softly scratching at Luke’s scalp. There were no words. 

They both fell asleep, the quiet being all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> so i’m about 1/3 of my way through a behemoth tros rewrite fic and i just started my first semester in my actual major so i’m writing A LOT and i wanted to write something simple and fun that’s not for a grade or made for anyone but myself. 
> 
> which is why this is soft and fluffy and basically plotless. i am also desperately craving validation from young han solo, so i’m giving luke that validation and living vicariously through him. 2020 has been a very bad year so far. hope y’all’s are going better lmao.


End file.
